


The Ballad of Songbird & Sparrow

by Miko



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Body Image, F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, Masturbation, Secret Identity, Self Confidence Issues, Sexting, Shyness, Singing, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-08-21 05:05:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16570199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miko/pseuds/Miko
Summary: Some nights, only one thing makes Genji's existence bearable - the unknown singer who serenades the Watchpoint from her window each evening. He'd lost the joy of song along with so many other good things in his life, but she's given it back to him and he can't resist joining in. He never meant to upset her or scare her off. He's got to find a way to make this right.Angela had no idea anyone overheard her silly habit of singing to herself, let alone that somanywere listening. Flustered and dismayed, she can't overcome her stage fright to continue. Perhaps the solution lies in the mysterious Sparrow and his boldness.Neither expected to find more than a song partner out of the deal.





	1. Chapter 1

Genji hadn't expected to enjoy being stationed at the Swiss Headquarters Watchpoint. Though it meant several of those he considered friends were near, it also meant he was surrounded by the bright, shiny, righteous agents who made up Overwatch, many of whom felt that Blackwatch was a stain on the organization's record. Genji was one of the most immediately recognizable members of Blackwatch, part of Commander Reyes' personal team, and their reputation wasn't exactly stellar at the moment.

But Commander Morrison had asked him specifically to come and help train their newest recruit, a young woman who'd been thrown out of sync with time and who now had some very improbable abilities. Genji was skeptical, until the first time he'd seen the girl blinking around the room, impossible to hit because she simply didn't move in straight lines.

The challenge of helping her to harness her unique powers filled his days, but it was the evenings that Genji truly came to look forward to. Most off-duty agents were out socializing and having fun, leaving the personnel quarters quiet and peaceful, which was the reason he'd started spending evenings in his room. 

Only to discover that he wasn't alone in disdaining the company of others.

Almost every night, the sweet sound of a woman singing would filter through his window. Genji had taken to leaving it wide open unless it was pouring rain, to better be able to hear. She had a stunning voice, full of vibrant emotion, soaring like birdsong. She picked music seemingly at random, from arias to showtunes to pop songs. He'd heard at least three different languages as well as English.

It should have felt like a waste of time, spending as much as an hour perched on the windowsill, eyes closed, listening. There were so many other things he could have been doing; training, meditating, even writing reports. Yet 'waste' was the last word Genji would apply. It was the highlight of his day, something uplifting that could raise his spirits no matter how the day had gone.

When she sang, he could almost ignore the constant pain of his cyborg body. The relief was powerful, and incredibly welcome.

Tonight, he actually recognized the song. It was a showtune from a musical that had been hugely popular about ten years ago, so much so it had even been playing on the radio in Japan. It was meant to be a duet, but could be sung alone. Genji closed his eyes, listened, and fought the urge to join in.

Once, not so very long ago, he'd adored karaoke. His voice was good enough to earn him praise, and for a while he'd even contemplated running away from the Shimada-gumi to become a J-Rocker. He’d been serious enough about the possibility to badger his father into allowing him to take formal lessons, in fact.

Of course, he'd contemplated running away from his family to become a lot of things over the years, but music had been one of his favourite daydreams. He loved to sing, found it helped him concentrate, and had been known among his family for always humming or singing under his breath. It was part of what earned him the nickname Sparrow.

Since the fight with Hanzo and the destruction of his body, Genji hadn't so much as hummed a single note. Nor had he been in the kind of mood that made him want to sing. He wasn't entirely sure his artificial throat could handle the range and fine control needed for singing.

But the urge was strong, and he finally gave in. If she could serenade the world, why couldn't he join her? He pulled his mask off and hummed the first few bars, testing his voice range, then sang the next stanza too quiet for anyone but him to hear. He was rusty, and his breath control was nowhere near what it should be, but far from horrible. 

The cybernetic voice had an eerie quality to it, but musical artists did far stranger modulation to their voices when producing albums. Thanks to some of that formal training, his singing English was actually better pronounced than his spoken words, so nobody here would be able to identify him by his accent.

As his confidence grew, he let his volume rise as well, until his voice blended with hers on the last chorus. They matched well, harmonizing perfectly. Genji flattered himself to think the two of them sounded even better than the professional recording. For one glorious moment, Genji forgot all about his pain, or his need for revenge, or anything else except the beauty of the song.

Then she gasped, as if realizing he'd joined in, and stopped. Genji finished the last line alone, to his deep disappointment.

A different kind of chorus rang out, protests coming from all directions. "Hey!" "Jerk, you scared her off!" "Aww don't stop, you sounded pretty together!"

Flushing, Genji pulled back from his window to make sure nobody would spot him there. Apparently he wasn't the only one who listened to the unknown singer with quiet devotion, and her fans were not happy with him for interrupting. 

He thought about calling out an apology and promising not to do it again, but his speaking voice was too distinctive. _Somebody_ would recognize it, and then the teasing would surely start. McCree, in particular, would take great delight in having something to rib Genji about.

Though he strained his ears long after the protests died, he didn't catch a single note. She'd stopped, either embarrassed or angry. Either way, he'd ruined her night, and that was the last thing he wanted.

Feeling guilty, he grabbed his datapad and brought up the Watchpoint forums. Perhaps if he posted an unsigned public apology, she might see it and be appeased. 

The question was _where_ to post it. Navigating the various subforums could be a nightmare. Genji didn't spend time socializing online, so he wasn't familiar with the layout. He tripped over the thread dedicated to her almost by accident, because it was the top post in the 'entertainment' section. It was titled simply 'The Singer'.

Astonished, Genji scrolled through the entries. It appeared that _many_ people appreciated the singer's voice. There was a great deal of speculation about her identity, including a few heated arguments. She had never posted herself, or at least never admitted to doing so. The general consensus was that she probably didn't realize anyone could hear her, and they should all stay quiet to avoid scaring her away.

Exactly as Genji had done. Wincing, he made a new reply to the topic, then hovered his hands over the keyboard. What should he say?

Biting his lip, he started typing.

* * *

Angela was _still_ incredibly flustered and embarrassed as she walked to the medical wing the next morning. It was bad enough that anyone had overheard her silly habit of singing to relax herself. Worse that the man who joined in had a beautiful voice, putting her pitiful efforts to shame. 

But the worst part by far was all the people who'd _protested_ when she stopped.

Knowing that others had been listening to her, all this time... it might be a week before she didn’t blush whenever anyone looked at her, months before she stopped wondering who had realized it was _her_ making a fool of herself.

Ironically, it was her terrible stage fright that might save her from complete disaster. Angela had always claimed that she couldn’t carry a tune, when others had prompted her to join in at Christmas or birthdays. Nobody here had ever heard her singing voice, and those who knew her best would believe it couldn’t have been her.

As she walked into the main infirmary ward, she saw two of the nurses bent over a computer, arguing. "At least he apologized," Jennifer said. "And he was sweet about it."

"It was still rude!" Omar retorted. "All this time everyone's been enjoying and behaving themselves, and then this asshole comes along and ruins it. It's not like she invited him."

"What are you two talking about?" Eager for a distraction from her embarrassment, Angela headed in their direction.

Both snapped upright with guilty looks on their faces. "We're not on shift yet," Jennifer blurted out. "We've still got ten minutes."

"I'm aware," Angela laughed. "I'm not scolding, just curious."

"The jerk who chased off the singer last night posted a public apology," Omar explained. "Jennifer thinks that makes up for him being an ass and jumping in where he wasn't invited in the first place."

So much for a distraction from her personal woes. Angela felt heat creep into her cheeks and prayed the flush wasn't visible, or at least that they were too occupied with their argument to notice it. "Posted it where?" Now she had visions of the entire base being drawn in, finding out about her silly little habit.

"On the subforum about the singer," Jennifer explained. "There's a lot of us who follow it, speculating about who she is and what she might sing next. Sometimes people post suggestions, hoping she'll see it even if she's not posting on the board, and once or twice she seems to have actually taken them."

"I like the name this guy uses for her, I'll give him that," Omar allowed. "Songbird is much better than 'the singer'. Bet you that sticks fast."

"Yeah, definitely," Jennifer nodded.

"I see." Angela clenched her hands on her briefcase, to hide the way they were trembling. "Well, I'd best get prepared for the start of my shift. You two should do the same."

"Yes, ma'am," they chorused, and scurried off to wherever they were stationed for the day.

Angela made her way to her office at what she hoped was a normal, unremarkable pace. As soon as the door was shut behind her, she collapsed into the chair and buried her face in her hands. What a mess!

After a few moments, morbid curiosity got the best of her. She logged into her computer, surfed through the forums with the search term 'songbird', and quickly found the right place. The number of agents subscribed to the subforum left her horrified. _That many_ people listened to her? 

She was a decent singer, but her main advantage was perfect pitch. She'd been singing to herself since she was too young to have words to go with the melody. Her mother had once laughingly commented that they'd named Angela too well, because she sang like an angel. It calmed and relaxed her, and made her happy, no matter how badly the day had gone.

Now she was going to have to close the window in her quarters if she wanted to keep the habit. That made the room unbearably stuffy - which, now that she thought about it, should have warned her that others probably left theirs open as well.

Sighing, she scrolled through the latest posts. The apology was already buried under mountains of comments along much the same lines as Jennifer and Omar's argument, but eventually she found it.

_'To the mysterious Songbird: I deeply regret that my impulsiveness in joining you last night startled you into flying away. I didn't realize you were such a shy little bird. My meager efforts are unworthy of you, and I promise I will not interrupt again. Please consider that so many take heart from your beautiful song, myself included, and do not be afraid to continue. My sincerest apologies. -Sparrow'_

Now Angela was flushed for a different reason entirely. He thought _he_ wasn't worthy of _her_? He'd harmonized with her so beautifully that she hadn't even realized at first he'd joined in, only felt that the song had gained deeper richness. He must have perfect pitch as well, but he'd sounded trained, or at least far more polished and practiced. There was an odd quality to his voice that gave it a haunting tone, turning it from lovely to entrancing.

Scrolling through the comments more slowly, Angela realized that his remark about people taking heart from her singing was literal. Many of the angriest outcries about him chasing her away outlined how her singing brought peace or joy at the end of a long day, banishing for a short time the ghosts that a hard military career could create. 

Angela leaned back in her chair and stared at the screen, her mind churning. As a doctor, she felt a responsibility to the population of the base to keep them healthy and happy. She was no psychologist, but even she could see that it would be detrimental to base morale to remove what some people seemed to view as the thing that kept them going. It was a heavy weight to bear, especially for such a frivolous habit.

She honestly wasn't sure she could sing with deliberate intent, knowing so _many_ were listening. Her stage fright was the main reason she'd never done anything with her singing, never bothered to train her voice. It was easy to be confident as a doctor, where she knew she was competent and what she did saved lives. But as an entertainer? She didn't have the courage.

But... perhaps if she had a partner? Someone who could carry her when she faltered?

"Athena, can you tell me who sent the message from 'Sparrow' that I'm currently looking at?" Another thought occurred to her, and she winced. "Has anyone asked you who 'the singer' is?"

"Many have asked, but I assumed that you would wish for privacy, so I did not disclose your identity," Athena answered, to Angela's intense relief. "Likewise, I will not disclose his. Would you like to know the exact number of inquiries about you?"

"No, thank you." The less she knew of how many were listening, the better. "Hmm. Can you send him a direct, private message from me? From Songbird, rather. Er, any messages I send to anyone regarding this topic should be anonymous unless I specify otherwise." Angela could sometimes be absent-minded when it came to things outside her profession. She could absolutely picture herself forgetting to ask that a message be anonymous.

"Of course, doctor. I will set up a private message account between the two of you." Athena's voice warmed. "May I say that I quite enjoy your singing as well?"

Blushing, Angela hid her face in her hands again. Of course the AI heard everything that happened in the Watchpoint, but it hadn't occurred to Angela that Athena would be _listening_. "Thank you, Athena." 

It took her a moment to collect herself, but finally Angela straightened again and turned to her computer. As promised, a blank message window had appeared on her screen, addressed to 'Sparrow' and with 'Songbird' as the signature line. Drawing a breath, Angela did a quick internet search, cut and pasted the link into the message, then hit send before she could second guess herself.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been a long, hard mission. Genji hadn't taken any injuries that required medical attention, but every inch of his body ached - including the majority that wasn't there any more. Phantom pain was something he'd gotten used to, learned to endure, but that certainly didn't make it pleasant. Especially on top of the constant, grinding agony of the nerve connections for all his cybernetics. 

There was a reason nobody else had ever survived such extensive cyborgization. It took everything he'd learned as a ninja about fighting through pain to keep himself going, some days. And even his willpower had limits.

So when he got back to his quarters, all Genji wanted to do was collapse onto his bed and pass out. He forced himself to hook up all the cables and connections required to charge and deal with waste from his cyborg body, because he'd regret it if he woke and had no power. The miniature fusion cell in his chest could only do so much before it needed fuel replenishment.

As he worked, he gritted his teeth and focused as hard as he could on imagining the feel of his missing limbs’ muscles clenching, then releasing. Sometimes he could convince himself to relax the agonizing knots that didn't exist, but it wasn't working today. He really should clean his sword before resting as well, but he simply didn't have the energy.

"Agent Shimada, you have a text message waiting," Athena piped up.

Groaning, Genji hung his head. "Is it urgent, or from a commanding officer? If not, I'll deal with it tomorrow."

"It is somewhat time sensitive, though not urgent. I believe you will wish to see it now."

Genji hesitated, but Athena was brilliant and well aware of the needs and wants of every agent in her care. She would be able to tell exactly how badly Genji was hurting right now, and if she said he wanted to read the message, she was probably right. With effort, he stretched out his left hand and grabbed the datapad off his desk.

Athena helpfully brought up the message for him. It was a single line of text - an internet link. He stared at it. " _This_ is what's so important? Spam mail?"

"You may want to check the sender before you conclude that."

Now thoroughly puzzled, he glanced at the 'from' line. His eyes widened as he saw, not an email, but a single word.

'Songbird'.

"She _replied_?" He looked again, and sighed in relief when he saw it was addressed to 'Sparrow', not 'Genji'. He tapped the link, and the soft strains of music started. It was a pop song, one he was vaguely familiar with. This was a duet that _couldn't_ be sung by only one person, because the lyrics intertwined between the male and female parts. 

"An invitation." Smiling, he closed his eyes and listened, picturing her voice in the female part. His Songbird was much better than the soprano in the recording - less trained, perhaps, but with a vibrancy and emotional depth that professionals could only dream of. "Has she sung at all while I was gone?"

"She has not. The forum has been quite upset with you, despite your apology."

"I bet." Genji was saddened to hear that she hadn't resumed. The date stamp on the message indicated it had been sent the morning after he'd interrupted her, but his team had been out in the field for the last three days. She must surely think he'd rejected her offer.

He glanced at the clock. It was still early afternoon. He'd have enough time for a few hours of sleep, and still be able to learn the song by the time she usually sang. "Athena, will you tell me when she's in her room and available?" He'd look quite the fool if he tried to start the song and she wasn't even there. "And set an alarm for four hours, please."

"Certainly, Agent Shimada. I believe she will be pleased."

"Good. Put the song on repeat." He tucked the datapad next to his pillow, and slid down into the sideways curl that was the only position he could sleep in, with all the connections hooked up. Closing his eyes again, he drifted off with the song dancing through his mind.

The phantom ache in his missing limbs finally eased, allowing him to fall into a true, restful sleep.

* * *

It was the fourth night since she'd sent the link, and Angela was certain Sparrow had rejected her offer. She'd tried once to sing anyway, but her throat closed up, voice freezing at the thought of all those people listening. The worst part was that it meant her primary means of comforting and relaxing herself had now turned into an additional source of stress, leaving her twisted up in emotional knots.

She'd taken to spending extra time in the infirmary wards, and then lingering over dinner with her friends, before finally admitting defeat and heading back to her quarters. Tonight, however, as she was finishing up the day's paperwork in her office, Athena spoke up. "Dr. Ziegler, Sparrow requested that I inform you he has returned to the base, and received your message."

Returned to the base? Angela flushed as she realized she hadn't even considered whether he might have _seen_ the message, or been anywhere in the vicinity. Judging by how well she could hear him, his quarters must be relatively close to hers, which meant he was at least a mid-level agent. Of course he would often be out on missions.

Athena was intelligent, but there were a million demands on her attention, and she tended not to volunteer information unless someone made an inquiry about a topic. It had never occurred to Angela to ask if her message had been received.

She fought a brief battle with her curosity. Angela had access to the duty rosters, since she sometimes had to authorize changes for medical reasons. It would be simple enough to find out who had returned to base today, and that would leave her with a very narrow list of people who might possibly be Sparrow.

Deliberately, she put the thought out of her mind. She wanted her privacy respected, and clearly so did he. She wouldn’t go digging, or try to put clues together. No matter how tempting it was.

Quickly she wrapped up what she'd been working on, then hurried to her quarters. Nerves gripped her as she walked, to the point that she could do no more than nod when people greeted her on the way by. Her voice wasn't working. 

If he'd bothered to let her know he'd seen the message, then he was going to sing. She'd all but promised to join him if he did - which meant _she_ was going to have to sing. With all those people listening. And if she didn't, he was going to feel foolish and rejected.

As soon as she was in her quarters, Angela opened the window so she'd be able to hear. Then she pulled out her datapad and typed a message to him, wanting to warn him of the possibility that she'd fail. 

_'I have terrible stage fright. So many are listening. - Songbird'_

Heart in her throat, she waited an agonizing minute before his reply appeared.

_'Never fear to soar the sky. I'll catch you if you fall. - Sparrow'_

Moments after the message arrived, a male voice rang out through the quiet night, strong and beautiful. It had the same odd tone as before, almost an internal harmonic, and she wondered if he was using some kind of voice modulator to hide his identity. Angela wished she'd thought of doing the same, but it was too late now.

Protests rang out, people objecting to him 'usurping' her or chasing her away again. Now she _had_ to join him, because she couldn't leave him bearing everyone's anger.

Forcing herself to think about nothing but the song, Angela closed her eyes and joined in on her cue. Her voice wavered at first, sliding painfully off pitch here and there. As he'd promised, Sparrow didn't falter, his tenor keeping perfect harmony and carrying her through the flubs.

With each stanza, she gained confidence, and her voice steadied. Angela concentrated on singing for _him_ , ignoring everyone else, and that made it easier. Thankfully the protests died off the moment she'd joined in, and the only sound was their twined voices soaring through the night.

It _did_ feel almost like flying. There was a visceral thrill to it, a feeling of being uplifted, carried by him as she carried him in turn. Angela had never experienced anything quite so beautiful.

When the last note faded, there was a burst of clapping and cheering. Apparently, her previously silent audience had decided that since she knew about them, it was okay for them to show their appreciation. Flushing so hard that her ears burned, Angela buried her face in her hands and did her best to ignore them.

After several minutes had passed with no new song beginning, a series of 'aww don't stop' and related comments came from the listeners. Unable to resist, Angela checked the forum and saw a wave of similar messages. Then one popped up that made her smile despite her embarrassment.

_'She's a shy bird. Enjoy what song she gives you. - Sparrow'_

To her surprise, some people were still angry with Sparrow, now complaining that he had no right to join in when the rest of them stayed quiet. Several were declaring that _they_ would sing along the next time, which left her thoroughly flustered and dismayed. 

Angela couldn't sing with just anyone - not only was it embarrassing, but unless they happened to have perfect pitch, the grating awareness of them being off tone would throw her out of harmony. She didn't have Sparrow's strength of voice, to be able to carry when her partner wavered.

More than that, she couldn't leave people still angry with him, thinking he was presuming again and lucky that she'd deigned to join him. 

_'I invited him. - Songbird'_

That prompted an absolute tidal wave from her fans, expressing delight that she'd joined them on the forum. Many begged for similar invitations, promising they were just as good as Sparrow. Unable to keep up, and not really wanting to, Angela closed the forum window. 

"Athena, notify me if Sparrow posts something, but otherwise use your discretion in whether or not I should look at the board, please." Watching constantly just in case he said something would only fluster her all the more with the sheer volume of posts.

After a moment of consideration, she added, "Forward a compilation of the day's suggestion posts to my email each morning." Suggestions would be helpful, if she was going to do this with deliberate intent rather than simply singing whatever came into her head.

"Certainly, doctor. It was a lovely performance."

"Thank you." Angela jumped at a ping from her datapad. Opening the message, she saw it was another private missive from Sparrow.

_'Lovely Songbird: You have no reason to fear your audience. They adore your voice, as do I. It is my honour and my pleasure to sing with you, and I hope we can do it again in the future. Thank you.'_

"Flirt," Angela murmured, smiling to herself. This time it wasn't so hard to type a proper reply. _'Dear Sparrow: I should have known you'd be a charmer. Flattery will get you nowhere. You've no idea if I'm lovely or not. But your voice certainly is, and I look forward to singing with you again. You give me courage.'_

Mere moments passed before the response came back. 

_'Everything I need to know about you is in your voice. Your kind and gentle heart shines through, and that makes you lovely by my definition. If I give you courage, I am glad. I cannot tell you how many times you have shored up my spirit, and given me strength. You are a healer of wounded hearts, though you know it not.'_

Amused that he'd called her a healer, Angela hugged the datapad to her chest as if she could cradle the message. Helping others was her calling; it was why she'd become a doctor in the first place. Though it eased her stage fright only a fraction, she was pleased to know that she could help people this way, as well.

Thanks to him. She could never have done it alone, once she found out about her audience. Humming to herself under her breath, not loud enough to carry even though the window remained open, Angela began an internet hunt for another good duet they could sing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for off-screen death of an unnamed patient, and Angela dealing with the grief of that.

They couldn't sing every night. His schedule appeared to be as chaotic and unpredictable as hers - he _must_ be a fairly high level agent, given the way he was often sent out with little or no warning, but always back within a few days. Since he couldn't always let her know that he'd be missing that night, he took to alerting her when he _was_ available, and she did the same.

Angela tried, but still couldn't quite find the courage to sing when she knew he wouldn't be there. She could start a song now, as long as she knew he'd join in, but that was the best she could do. Their audience started begging for songs on the nights he wasn't there, and she was sure the forum was full of angry or pleading posts.

After the second time he was away, Athena pinged Angela to let her know about another Sparrow post on the forum. Surprised, because she hadn't heard that he was back yet, she brought up the message. He must be patched in from wherever he currently was operating.

_'Stop behaving like spoiled children throwing tantrums because you've been denied a treat. She is shy, and she has a life. We all have important jobs to do, or we would not be at Headquarters, where we can hear her. No matter how nicely you beg, all you accomplish is to intimidate her further. Do not drive away the very treasure we are all here for. -Sparrow'_

Knowing he would surely catch backlash for the scolding, Angela typed a quick post of her own. _'He is right. Please don't be angry with him for defending me. -Songbird'_

Then she shut the forum down, and waited with her teeth sunk into her bottom lip. Sure enough, a moment later there was a ping announcing a new private message from him.

 _'I don't mind being your knight in armour, little bird. Their ire does not upset me, and I am only sorry I didn't realize what they were doing and speak up sooner. So long as_ you _remain happy with me, I am content.'_

_'Knight in armour, hmm? Now I'm imagining that you are Reinhardt Wilhelm. Though I know for an unfortunate fact that he cannot carry a tune in the proverbial bucket, having heard him in more than one enthusiastic Christmas carol over the years. Regardless, I hate that you bear their anger because I am a coward.'_

_'Never a coward. Do not think that of yourself. That you are afraid, yet overcome that fear in any way, makes you far braver than one who charges in with no fear at all. To be the wind beneath your wings lifting you higher is a pleasure and an honour. You are not beholden to them, or their demands. You give us all a gift, and they should treat it as such: it is a privilege to hear you, not a right.'_

Blushing, Angela fought the urge to squirm. He was so oddly formal, almost lyrical, and the things he said could be so beautiful. It was probably a good thing she _did_ know Rein couldn't sing to save his life, or she'd be more certain it must be the Crusader, with his talk of honour and bravery.

_'You're flattering me again. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were flirting.'_

The response was nearly instantaneous. _'What makes you so sure I'm not?'_

Now her face was truly on fire. It was ridiculous. They'd never met; he knew nothing about her except the sound of her voice, nor she about him. If he _was_ flirting, it couldn't be serious, and it certainly wasn't going to go anywhere.

Not that she _minded_ , per se. People attempted to flirt with Angela all the time; she was a young, pretty woman, so it was more or less inevitable. It wasn't often that she found herself truly flustered, however - or truly flattered. Sparrow had accomplished both.

She tried and failed half a dozen times to write a reply. Everything she typed sounded inane, overeager, or scolding. She didn't want him to stop, but she didn't want to lead him on, either. Several minutes into her struggle, the message app pinged again.

_'If I offended or upset you, I apologize. I will stop. Please forgive me?'_

"No!" Angela was so distraught that she exclaimed out loud. She'd accomplished the very thing she was trying to avoid, and she _still_ couldn't come up with anything useful to say. Finally she forced herself to hit 'send' on her latest attempt. _'I'm not upset, I just don't know what to say. You don't need to stop.'_

 _'Ah, I forgot what a shy bird you are. I won't stop, but you must promise you_ will _tell me if anything I do or say is unwelcome. Birds are meant to fly free, and I would never attempt to cage you with my affections.'_

 _'I promise.'_ Angela debated with herself, torn, and finally typed one more line in a rush, hitting 'send' before she could change her mind. _'Come home soon. I miss your voice when you're gone.'_

* * *

Angela dragged herself back to her room far earlier than usual, unable to bear the thought of either food or company. It had been a long, heartbreaking day, of the sort no doctor ever wanted to have. 

She'd lost a patient on the operating table; an over-eager cadet had been badly injured during a routine training exercise gone wrong. After ten grueling hours of surgery as Angela and her team fought to save his life, his heart had given out and they’d been unable to resuscitate him.

Losing patients was part of the life of a doctor, but that never made it any easier to bear when it happened. That his life never should have been in danger in the first place made it feel all the more tragic. Then she’d had to break the horrible news to his distraught, heavily pregnant young wife, and that had been its own special kind of horror. 

Curling up on her bed, she buried herself in her blankets to block out the world, as if she could hide from the grief and guilt as well. She _knew_ she'd done everything she could to save the patient, and yet she couldn't help but second guess herself. Was there something she'd missed, some technique she could have used, a different order she could have performed her actions in, that would have made a difference?

Some interminable time later, her datapad pinged. Angela was startled; she'd already told Athena to hold any well-meant messages of sympathy or reassurance from her friends and coworkers. They would only rub salt in the painfully raw wound on her heart. Then she realized who it must be. Reluctantly emerging from hiding, she grabbed her pad and retreated back under the covers to read it.

_'I'm here if you are. -Sparrow'_

Stomach churning, Angela tapped out a reply, her hands shaking. _'Not tonight. Sorry.'_

A moment later, it pinged back. _'Everything okay?'_

Damn, she shouldn't have said anything at all. Then he would have assumed she simply wasn't available, which happened sometimes. Now he was worried, justifiably so. Angela had told him just this morning that she was particularly looking forward to the song they'd picked for tonight; they’d even arranged to have Athena play music for them. She had to tell him _something_ , but the truth might give away her identity, and a lie felt like a disservice to the life that had been lost.

 _'I work in the infirmary. We lost someone today in a surgery I was part of.'_ That was probably safe enough. This Watchpoint was huge, and there were over a hundred people working in the medical wing. He'd likely assume she was a nurse, not a doctor.

_'I heard about that. It was a training accident, wasn't it? I'm so sorry, little bird. I'm sure you all did everything you could.'_

_'It's not enough!'_ Tears blurred her view of the screen. _'It's never enough, when someone dies. There should have been more we could do. I hate being so helpless in the face of death.'_

There was a long pause, and Angela grabbed a tissue to sniffle into, instead of her pillow. She desperately hoped he wouldn't come back with yet another rendition of 'they’re in a better place now' or similar platitude. That was exactly why she'd asked Athena to hold her messages. Perhaps such sentiments helped others, but it didn't ease her guilt for failing her patient.

_'Death is an inevitability, though rarely welcome. But the true tragedy is that of the people left behind. For those who died, their suffering is over. The living must go on, no matter the pain. Do not feel guilty for failing to accomplish the impossible - or for feeling bad about that failure. You are allowed to mourn. Use that sorrow, that anger, to give you strength to save the next patient, or the next one.'_

Angela stared at the message, astonished. Allowed to mourn. Nobody had ever said such a thing to her before. Usually people were trying to make her feel better, suffer less, put the failure behind her and concentrate on the positives, like all the lives she _had_ saved. Though she'd never consciously realized it, the result was that it felt like it was wrong for her to be upset, that she shouldn't feel those things in the first place.

Sparrow gave her permission, even encouragement, to grieve - so long as she did it productively. _That_ , she could do. Angela always did her best to learn from her failures. But for tonight, she could simply let herself feel, and cry, and mourn. 

_'Thank you. I know they mean well, but it hurts when people tell me not to let it get to me. I feel like it would be dishonouring the people we lost.'_

_'Open your window.'_ The datapad beeped with a second message hard on the heels of the first, this one posted on the forum. _'Tonight, the little bird needs comfort while she rests her weary wings. -Sparrow'_

Stretching her arm out, Angela could just reach the edge of the window from the bed. She pushed it open, and heard the soft strains of his voice. She didn't recognize the melody, or the language - something Asian, perhaps, judging by the odd tonality of the notes. It was in a minor key, full of sorrow and longing and regret. A song of loss. A song of grief.

Closing her eyes, Angela listened to his voice soar, and let the tears soak her pillow. Somehow, though the sad song made her cry harder, it did also feel like a release and relief. Her Sparrow was still carrying her, when she needed him most.


	4. Chapter 4

After that, they started talking more and more, topics ranging over everything from world politics to philosophical questions to complaining about the worst aspects of their jobs. Angela had never had anyone to unburden herself to, this way. She tended to take people's problems onto her own shoulders, not let others carry some of the weight for her. It was easier to speak freely in text, and the fact that he didn't know her identity meant she was, paradoxically, free to be herself.

In turn, he spoke about the tension and frustration of being out in the field, struggling to overcome the increasingly negative opinion of the world toward Overwatch. Angela was halfway certain he must be in Blackwatch, except every so often he would say something about Tracer or mention Winston. She continued to try hard not to make any guesses, though it was so very tempting.

They both stayed vague, not wanting to give too much away, but it was a strange sort of intimacy that they shared. Angela knew things about him that she was certain he'd never told anyone else, and she'd certainly given up secrets to him that she'd never spoken aloud. 

Things like how he feared sometimes that his officer’s orders were crossing an inappropriate line, and struggled with how much responsibility he then bore for the outcome of following those orders. Things like how hard she'd fought to get where she was at such a young age, and everything she'd sacrificed in the process.

For the first time in her life, Angela had a friend she could truly confide in, and it was liberating.

Of course, not all their conversations were so serious. One night, as she was studying the charts for an operation she'd be performing the next day, her datapad pinged with a message from him.

_'Did you know that there is fanfiction about us?'_

She blinked, trying to make sense of that. _'There's what?'_

_'Fanfiction. People are writing stories about us.'_

_'I know what it is. I meant, why are people writing about us??'_

_'It's mostly romance. People speculating about our relationship, imagining dramatic soulmate true love scenarios. Tragic and happy both. A lot of people like the idea that we're in love, little bird. <3'_

Angela shook her head at the heart. _'You're reading it??? Why?'_

_'Some of it's not half bad. I even left kudos on one story - I think I may have given the author a heart attack, judging by the way she gibbered on the forum after. Not sure how I feel about the story that wrote us as literal birds, though. And yes, it was explicit.'_

_'Sparrow!!'_ Angela's cheeks felt like they were on fire. _'That's not what I meant and you know it!'_

_'What can I say? I'm a romantic. Since I cannot have my true love in real life, I must settle for a pale copy in fiction. (It was actually morbid curiosity and I was appropriately punished by the horror of most of it, at which point it became trainwreck syndrome. But there really was one good story.) There's even some fanart, though far less than there would be if they had any idea what we look like.'_

A picture came through after the message, a surprisingly professional-looking image. A woman sat in the window of a high tower, long dark hair draped over her shoulder. Brilliant blue and green wings framed her, primary feathers trailing down out of the window. Perched on the limb of a tree across from her was a brown-haired man with drab but beautifully detailed sparrow wings. Each of them stretched a hand out toward the other, though several feet separated them. 

_'It's gorgeous,'_ she admitted, flicking it to one side of her screen so it would stay visible as she typed. _'I had no idea people were so passionate about our relationship. They don't even know us.'_

_'For them, it's a way of expressing their appreciation. They want us to be happy, as we've made them happy. Imagining that happiness uplifts them just as our song does.'_

Angela considered that for a long moment. _'I guess I won't protest. But I am not reading any of it!'_ Then, before he had a chance to answer that one, she sent, _'I_ am _happy, in a way I've never been before. You are my anchor, and I don't know what I'd do without you.'_

_'As you are my light, little bird. Without you, I might already have been lost in the darkness. If I could love anyone, it would be you.'_

That was an odd way to put it. Angela frowned at the message. _'IF you could love?'_

There was a long, long pause. She began to fear that she'd pushed too far, driven him off, when the beep finally came. _'Such is not meant to be, for me. I cannot say more without giving far too much away. In truth, I am glad you will never know me in person. Like this, I can almost fool myself that the possibility of more could exist.'_

Now thoroughly disturbed, Angela stared at the datapad, wishing she could see through it to glimpse the man beyond. Sparrow often had a dark edge to his humour, and he'd hinted - sometimes outright stated - that he suffered from negative emotional trauma of _some_ kind. Guilt, PTSD, depression, she wasn't sure. Come to think of it, this wasn't the first time he'd made comments about being unworthy of her, but she'd written it off as flattery or hyperbole.

This seemed more serious. And far more dismaying. Until the moment he denied the possibility, Angela hadn't realized she was nursing a growing hope for exactly that. He was truly her best friend and confidante. Why couldn't there be more between them? Their fans were right that they meshed so beautifully together in harmony, it seemed almost inevitable that they'd fit well together in other ways.

Now that she'd been made consciously aware of how much she wanted it, wanted _him_ , Angela could hardly think about anything else. She had no idea what he looked like, or whether she would find him physically attractive. But love wasn't only about sex, nor even mostly about that.

What could possibly make him so certain they could never be together? Even if he was badly scarred from an injury of some kind, there were many people on the base who could say the same, and most of them had significant others. She was used to seeing people with bad injuries, why would he think she would be unable to see past the surface?

Unless... unless it was more than surface. Angela thought about the odd, haunting quality to his voice, and his absolutely perfect pitch, unwavering even when she faltered. She'd attributed it to him being a strong, trained singer. What if there was another reason? Could he possibly be an _Omnic_?

It would explain everything. Well, almost everything - there were Omnics on the base, but none who had quarters close enough to hers to hear her singing. She supposed he could be on the roof - his song did come from above her somewhere.

 _'Is it that you cannot love? Or that you cannot be with me? Love can exist from afar. Long-distance relationships are difficult, but possible. Though I'm sure, no matter who or what you are, it would not stop me from wanting to know you in person.'_ Perhaps that would reassure him, if she was right about her theory. Human/Omnic relationships did exist, though they were rare. Angela had never thought she would find herself in one, but for Sparrow, she hardly cared what he might look like.

Another long pause. This time, his answer was uncharacteristically short. _'You deserve better.'_

Angela smiled, and ran her fingertips over the screen, as if she could caress him through it. The abruptness meant she was getting to him, and he was taking her offer seriously. Most importantly, that was _not_ 'I cannot love you'. _'Isn't that for me to decide? I can’t imagine anyone better than the man who is the wind beneath my wings. Will you love me, Sparrow?'_

Minutes passed, as she waited with her teeth clamped on her lower lip. Finally the reply came. _'Songbird, my heart is already yours. You make me feel whole.'_

The answer was all she could have hoped for. Well, no. If it was _everything_ she'd wanted, then he'd have agreed to meet her. But perhaps that would come in time.

And even if it didn't, Angela thought she could be content, knowing he loved her as she loved him. _'Then I shall guard your heart like the treasure it is, and hope you do the same with mine in return, for it has been in your keeping some time already.'_

_'Of course, if we are lovers, you can no longer object when I flirt with you. Or do more than flirt. There is more to love than sex, but there is also more to sex than intercourse.'_

So much for serious and heartfelt declarations. He'd returned to his usual flirting... but this time it sent a little thrill of heat racing through Angela's veins. Now she knew he _meant_ it. And where before she'd have chided him, now she wanted to encourage more.

She just wasn't entirely certain how to go about doing that. Flirting was not something she did often, or well, but she knew she should answer him in kind. _'Are you talking about... sexting? I feel silly even writing the word. I'm not good at that sort of thing.'_

_'It's a skill that requires practice, and also some imagination. I know you have the latter, or your song would not be so vibrant. As for the former? Let me give you some inspiration.'_

The next message was a link, and she clicked on it with a faint sense of dread. She'd expected... actually she had no idea what she'd expected. It could have been anything from a porn video to a how-to sexting tutorial. Instead, it was a story.

 _Their_ story, she quickly realized, as she skimmed the first paragraph. It was about Songbird and Sparrow. _'I said I wouldn't read any of it!'_

_'Trust me, little bird.'_

_'I feel ridiculous reading about myself.'_ Despite the complaint, she reluctantly returned to skimming the story. It was at least well written, as he'd promised, and the author did a remarkably good job of describing them without actually describing them, leaving it up to the reader's imagination what they looked like.

Angela couldn't help but picture him as the man in the illustration, with dark hair and glossy feathered wings of brown with black markings. She tried hard to imagine him as an Omnic instead, but failed. Perhaps that was prejudiced of her, but the illustration was firmly in her head now.

Then she got far enough in the story to understand why he'd sent her the link. They - the two characters meant to be them - started having what was essentially phone sex.

Angela didn't consider herself a prude. You couldn't be a doctor without having a very thorough knowledge of the intimate parts of the human body, and she was certainly no blushing virgin. God knew the ribald jokes that rebounded on a military base of any kind had desensitized her to bawdy language. The things she'd heard Reinhardt and Torbjorn say over the years!

Despite all that, Angela found herself blushing as she read, wide-eyed. It was... quite graphic. And all too easy to imagine the real Sparrow saying some of these things, with the way he flirted. Distinctly overheated, she sent him another message. _'Would you truly want to do this with me?'_

_'Little bird, you have no idea. Have you reached the part where 'we' agree to meet in a darkened room, so that we cannot see one another, but can touch freely? I think I might enjoy learning the shape of your body by feel.'_

Flustered, she waffled over her response. Then Angela bit her lip, scolding herself. If they were truly going to be in a relationship, then there was no reason for her to be embarrassed about wanting him. _'I suppose that could be arranged, if you like? The Operating Room is always empty after hours, it's pitch black in there with no lights on, and I have a key...'_

Then she pressed her hands to her flaming cheeks. It was one thing to be determined to hold her own in this new game between them. It was another thing entirely to actually do it. How was it that she could be so firm and confidant with patients, and yet a man flirting with her - or an audience listening to her sing - left her floundering in quicksand?

His response didn't help. _'So bold! I like this new side of you. You're blushing bright red and wondering why you were insane enough to hit 'send' on that message, aren't you?'_

He knew her far too well. _'Yes,'_ she admitted. _'I would do it, though. If you wanted to.'_

He might be right about her dubious mental faculties. Offering to sneak off to have sex with a man she'd never met, in the dark, without even knowing who he was? She'd had a roommate in medical school who would have considered the idea to be a grand adventure, but Angela had always been the sensible one. The girl with her feet on the ground.

Sparrow truly did give her wings to fly.

Though Angela noted he hadn't said whether or not he would do such a thing with her. It certainly wasn't shyness stopping _him_. Reluctance to admit that if she touched him, she'd feel only metal? She was growing more and more convinced of her theory.

All the more so when he continued to dodge the offer, without actually turning her down or saying he didn't want to. _'What else would you do for me? If I told you to strip down right now, lie on your bed spread out the way you'd want me to see you, would you do that?'_

If she'd thought she was blushing before? That was nothing compared to now. At least the heat of her embarrassment would keep her warm against the cool air of the room. Angela squirmed out of her sweater and pants, then out of her lingerie, and draped herself over the bed, propped up on the pillows. If she half closed her eyes, she could almost pretend he was standing in the corner, watching her.

 _'Done. What about you?'_ She bit her lip, trying not to feel nervous. Really, it was ridiculous. It wasn't like anyone could see her this way. Not even the one person she wished _could._ Briefly she contemplated sending him a picture that didn't show her face, but reluctantly decided against it. There was too much potential for something to show that might identify her, and she didn't want him to think she was pressuring him for a photo in turn.

_'My, my. If I'd known you'd be so eager, I'd have tried this ages ago. Don't worry about me, dear heart. Trust me, I am enjoying myself thoroughly, and I want to concentrate on you. Run your hands over your body. Play with your breasts for me. Tell me how it feels.'_

Even as the 'dear heart' made a different sort of heat run through her, his refusal to make the experience mutual cemented Angela's certainty that Sparrow was an Omnic. She decided not to push or make any kind of issue about it. Hopefully, he would eventually realize he could be honest with her, and it wouldn't affect her feelings for him at all. 

His request did leave her with one difficulty, however. _'I can't do that and type at the same time.'_

_'LOL. Talk to text, little bird. It's what I'm doing now.'_

Feeling foolish for not thinking of that, Angela cleared her throat. "Athena, talk to text mode, please. Transmit whenever I pause." She waited for the acknowledging beep. Smiling, she asked, "Did you actually say 'LOL', or did you laugh and it was translated?"

_'I chuckled. I wonder what your moans of pleasure will look like in text? Are you doing as I asked?'_

Swallowing, Angela stopped stalling, and ran her hands up from her hips, over her stomach, to cup her breasts. Even that simple touch left her breathless; or perhaps it was the knowledge that she was doing it for Sparrow that stole the air from her lungs. "Yes. It feels..." She struggled for words. "More intense than when I do it alone."

Now that they were getting into it, her embarrassment was fading into desire, making it easier for her to talk about more intimate things. "My breasts feel heavy, and my skin is tingling. I'm imagining that the hands on me are yours." 

What would metal fingers feel like? Would they be chilly, or warm? Would he caress her lightly, or knead firmly at the soft flesh? Angela shivered, and squeezed her breasts harder, trying to picture it.

_'Good girl. Pinch your nipples. Roll them between your fingers.'_

Angela obeyed, moaning as the tiny pain of the pinch translated to a streak of heat in the core of her sex. "Ah!"

_'Well, I saw that moan. Hopefully I'll see many more. Are you wet for me, little bird?'_

She was indeed, her body eager to have him inside her, preparing itself for an invasion that sadly wasn't coming. "Y-yes." It wasn't shyness that made her voice shake, but desire.

_'I don't know. Better make sure. Dip your fingers inside, but don't touch your clit.'_

"Sparrow!" It was half protest, half moan of need. Still, she obeyed. Sliding her fingers through the slick folds, she found her entrance and circled around it, then dipped inside. She was most definitely wet, and her body throbbed a protest to have her fingers so close with no direct stimulation to her clitoris. 

Knowing he was waiting for her response, she forced herself to articulate the feelings. "I am wet, and hot and tight. It's been a while since I did this with anyone. Please, may I touch my clit?"

Begging for it was an odd little thrill, being at his mercy for her pleasure even though it was her own fingers doing the touching. There was nothing stopping her from simply doing as she wished, but it felt more like he was involved, doing it this way.

_'Not yet, dear heart. Am I horrible person for being fiercely glad that nobody else has touched you recently? It's very sour grapes of me.'_

The comment made her smile, pleased by his jealousy. It meant he was truly engaged in this, wanted her for himself even if he wouldn't take her. "Maybe, but I like it. Please?"

_'Do you have toys? A vibrator?'_

Now she was blushing again. "Yes. Should I be the one getting jealous? How do you know so much about a woman's intimate possessions, hmm?" A smile played over her lips as she teased him back.

_'A misspent youth, I'm afraid. But it's to my benefit now, and yours. There's certainly no need for jealousy. Take one of your vibrators, and turn it on. Run it over your breasts.'_

Misspent youth? Now Angela wondered if he was much older, and _that_ was the reason he wouldn't meet with her. Once again she was grateful for her knowledge that Reinhardt absolutely could not sing, and Torbjorn would certainly never cheat on his beloved wife, but that still left many people in the base as a possibility.

Reaching out, she opened her bedside table and felt in the drawer, pulling out her favourite vibrator. It was slender but powerful, the silicon skin ribbed to give it texture, with a curve at the end to press against the sweet spot inside.

She'd never used it anywhere other than the obvious, but when she lightly passed the buzzing toy over her already taut nipples, she gasped at the shock of sensation. Overwhelmed, she moved it away, but then hesitated and returned it to her breast. He'd asked her to do this, and she sensed if he'd been the one there, he wouldn't be going easy on her just because it was more sensation than she was used to experiencing.

"It's... it's good," she gasped out, knowing he was waiting for her reaction. "It's almost too much."

_'I'd rather it was my tongue flicking over you, driving you crazy and making you gasp like that. Or maybe both - my tongue on one side, the vibrator on the other. Would you like that, little bird?'_

She moaned, and shivered at the mental image. She'd always loved having her breasts licked and sucked, and now she knew how stimulating this could be as well. Angela was definitely incorporating this into her own masturbation routine from now on. "I'd like that very much." She paused, blushing, and then added shyly, "I'd like your tongue much more in other places, though."

Then she hid her face against the pillow, trying to let the cool fabric soak up the heat in her cheeks, unable to believe she'd said such a thing. Sparrow could get her to do many things she would never have considered with anyone else, apparently. Unfortunately, hiding her face meant she couldn't see his response, so she had to peek eventually.

_'I want to kiss you a great deal, too. I bet your mouth is hot and wet and sweet. I wish I could hear the way you'd moan as I nip your lip, then suck on it, but especially as my tongue fights with yours.'_

So much for any hope of cooling down. Angela licked her lips, and imagined it was his tongue sweeping over the flesh. "That would be nice, too, but it's not what I meant."

_'Oh, really? Well, I certainly wouldn't mind sucking your fingers, one by one, running my tongue over your fingertips and palms and wrists. Or perhaps your toes. You'd be shocked how sensitive the flesh between your toes is, and how good it feels to have someone suck on them.'_

Angela's toes curled in response, and the liquid heat at her core burned all the higher. She squeezed her thighs together to contain the ache of emptiness, but that only made the slick lips of her vulva stroke together. That in turn made her rock her hips, desperate for further stimulation. How could he get her this worked up with nothing but his words? She'd had men and women actually _do_ the things he was describing, and not pull such a strong reaction from her.

"That's... that's still not what I meant," she protested, but the words came out breathless. It was a good thing he couldn't hear her tone through text. Or maybe a very disappointing thing, because she'd certainly like to hear him all rough and husky with lust and need.

_'Hmm. I guess you'll have to be more explicit, then. Where would you like my tongue, little bird?'_

Angela knew all the clinical words, the precise terms for each and every part of her genitals. She'd discussed the area many times with patients, nurses, and doctors, all without a blush. But the medical terms seemed too cold and harsh for this situation. Biting her lip, she contemplated what slang terms she knew, trying to find one that didn't sound ridiculous or degrading - or both.

"I... I want your tongue... in my pussy," she whispered, aflame with desire even more than embarrassment. "I want you to... to lick my entrance, push your tongue inside to collect the... the juices, and then slide all the way up to my clit." 

_'I bet you taste sweet, like honey melting on my tongue. Go on; move the vibrator there. Play with it around your entrance, but don't push inside, and don't touch your clit."_

Angela moaned again, now desperate for the filled sensation he was denying her. "Please, Sparrow. I want you inside me." She trailed the vibrator down over her stomach, skirting her clit, then rubbed the tip around and around her vulva.

_'Soon, I promise.'_

She knew he only meant the vibrator, that he wasn't promising she would soon have _him_ , for real - but she let herself pretend, just for a little while. "I can't wait. Please? I need you. Ah god, I'm so empty. I need you to fill me up."

_'Fuck, we've barely gotten started, and I already know you're going to be the death of me.'_

The harsh word made Angela chuckle, pleased to finally be breaking through his control and drawing a genuine reaction out of him. She pictured him lying in bed as well, hand wrapped around his cock, stroking and squeezing as he watched her beg. Would he be big, or small? Cut, or uncut? Dark-skinned, or light?

She settled on a mid-brown skin tone for her mental image, an indeterminate shade that could belong to many different ethnicities. Uncut, because she preferred a man in all his natural glory. Not too big, so she could pretend the vibrator was his cock, and so she could imagine being able to take him easily in her mouth. Next time, she'd choose her biggest toy, and imagine him too big to even wrap her fingers around.

Perhaps there was something to not knowing, to being able to adjust her fantasy to whatever she wanted in the moment.

"They do call it a 'little death'," she quipped, squirming as if she could force the vibrator to shift where she needed it, even though she was the one holding it away. "Do you like it when I beg, Sparrow? Shall I plead for my release, for you to fill me to bursting, run your fingers over my most sensitive flesh?" Shyness and embarrassment were being overcome by heat and need - and trust, because she knew Sparrow would never mock or taunt her.

 _'Like doesn't begin to cover it. I could listen to you sing all day, but now I_ really _want to hear you beg in that pretty voice of yours. Text will have to do, but at least I can imagine it. You're not being specific enough, though. What sensitive flesh would that, be, exactly?'_

Whimpering, Angela pulled the vibe away, needing a moment to catch her breath. He really was going to make her say it all explicitly. For one wild moment she seriously considered opening up the comm channel, letting him hear her. 

But she couldn't take the risk that he might recognize her accent, or worse, her voice. The thought of him knowing who she was without the reverse being true was discomfiting. She’d drive herself crazy, studying everyone she interacted with, trying to figure out who reacted to her with intimate knowledge they shouldn’t have.

"If you want to hear me beg in real life, you'll have to figure out a way to join me," she replied, knowing he wouldn’t take her up on it but enjoying the fantasy. "There's still that dark operating room. You don't have to touch, you could just sit and listen, and let me hear your moans in return."

_'Tempting, little bird. So, so tempting. Go ahead and touch yourself as you like... but you're only allowed to do what you describe to me.'_

Almost sobbing with relief, Angela tilted the vibe so it was pressed lengthwise along her vulva, tip at her entrance and base against her clitoris. The deep buzz felt like a lightning bolt against the tight bundle of nerves, so much so that she gave a little scream of pleasure as she writhed against it. "I'm... I'm pressing the toy against me," she choked out. "All of me, from hole to clit. Ah, the vibration is so sharp it's almost too much, and not nearly enough."

_'Fuck yourself with it. Slowly. Slide it in one inch at a time, and tell me how it feels.'_

Biting her lip hard, Angela tilted the toy until the tip dipped inside, then pushed it deeper. She was so wet and swollen and ready, there was no resistance at all. It felt like her body was trying to pull it in, craving the fullness, inner muscles already fluttering around the soft plastic. He'd worked her up so hard, she was hovering on the edge, but wasn't nearly ready for this fun to end yet.

Repeated chiming made her eyes fly open, and only then did she realize she'd closed them to savour the sensations. Blushing, she saw several messages from Sparrow on the screen, followed by a series of pings.

_'Talk to me, little bird.'_

_'Bad girl, you know you're only allowed to do things that you're telling me about.'_

_'Little bird, little bird, you're not paying attention are you? Come back to me.'_

"Sorry," she gasped out, voice breaking mid-word. It took effort to make herself still the movement of the vibrator inside her, and she couldn't quite erase the shaking in her hands. Even holding it still, the vibration alone was threatening to push her over the edge. "I can't... I can't... please! I need you."

_'Go ahead, my love. Give yourself what you need. Imagine that it's my fingers, and tongue, and cock. Hard and deep, make yourself come.'_

Crying out, Angela thrust the vibrator as far inside her as she could, and angled it up to find her g-spot inside. At the same time she ground the heel of her palm against her clit, rubbing back and forth in little jerking motions, stimulating the nerves. Pleasure hit her like an avalanche, sweeping her away with the overwhelming force of it, burying her in breathless ecstasy. 

When she returned to reality, she was dazed and panting for air, shivering with aftershocks. The vibration was suddenly too much on her oversensitive flesh, and she flicked the toy off, then eased it free. It took her two tries to focus on the words again.

_'Still with me, little bird?'_

"I'm here," she managed, her voice a hoarse rasp. Had she been screaming? Her raw throat certainly felt like she had. Mortified, she flicked a glance at her window, but thankfully it was closed at the moment. That was _not_ the kind of show Songbird and Sparrow wanted to put on for their fans. 

Though some of the fans would undoubtedly enjoy it.

_'Ah, this is the limitation of talk to text. I can't tell how much you enjoyed that. Was it good for you, dear heart?'_

Somewhat giddy, Angela curled up on her side, smiling at the tablet. "There are no words strong enough to describe how good it was, my love." She giggled, then clapped a hand over her mouth, astonished. He'd reduced her to the mentality of a school girl with a crush, apparently. "Athena, in future when we're doing this and I give the command 'birdsong', you may send audio transmission to Sparrow."

"Certainly, doctor."

_'Songbird, are you sure? I... I cannot do the same.'_

Disappointed, but not surprised, Angela smiled sadly at the words. "I'm sure. None of the sounds I made in those last few minutes were anywhere near coherent enough to identify me, and you deserve to harvest the fruits of your labour. I want you to know _exactly_ how good you make me feel."

_'Mmm, I like the way you think. Let's test it out, shall we?'_

"Right now?" Angela meant the words to be a protest, but they came out breathy with anticipation. "Who is going to be the death of whom, exactly? If you make me scream like that again, I'll be hoarse tonight when we sing."

_'You're a medic, right? I'm sure you can fix yourself up. I want to hear you, and I'm not nearly done with you yet. Give the command, and this time I won't make you talk.'_

Swallowing hard, Angela reached into her drawer and picked out a much longer, thicker dildo. "I'm going bigger this time," she told him. "You'll have to take it slow. At least I'm more than wet enough to handle it." Drawing a breath, she gave the command he was waiting for. "Birdsong."

_'My brave little bird. We are going to have so much fun. Stroke your pussy for me, with your fingers. Gently.'_

Moaning, with a little thrill of desire knowing that he would hear it this time, Angela obeyed.


	5. Chapter 5

Being 'with' Songbird was simultaneously the most fantastic and frustrating thing that had ever happened to Genji. He loved nothing better than making her fall apart, hearing her gasps and moans and cries. The way she screamed his name made him come every damn time, no matter how hard he was fighting to hold back. Knowing he could bring her such pleasure with nothing more than his commands was amazing, but it also left him aching to learn the taste and feel of her.

So many times, he considered at least doing the same thing she had done, telling Athena to let her hear him when words were gone and only moans were left behind. But Songbird was braver than him in the end, and he kept his silence, sounds of pleasure reaching no farther than the walls of his quarters.

They still sang, and they still talked about everything under the sun, but the highlight of his nights became the moments when he talked her into orgasm, hearing her lose her embarrassed shyness day by day. She even started teasing him back, talking about how much she wanted to touch or suck on his cock, or feel it deep inside her. Genji loved every second of watching her blossom, even as he seethed in resentment that it could never go farther than this.

It would be so easy for him to figure out who she was. All he needed to do was wall climb until he found the window her voice came from, then peek in when she wasn't looking. In his darkest moments, Genji had to fight off the urge to do exactly that. If he knew who she was, he could better gauge whether maybe, just maybe, she might be able to accept him for who he was, and not turn him away when she learned the truth.

Except the realistic answer was always going to be 'no', regardless of who she was. Outside of the forums, Genji was no kind of white knight, and certainly nobody's hero. He lived and worked in the darkness and shadows, doing the jobs that were too dirty for the good guys but which still needed to be done. His sweet Songbird, with her healer's heart and innocent joy in life, would never be able to understand the horrible things he'd done.

And that was aside from the physical issues, because who in their right mind would want a half-human, half-machine abomination for a lover?

If he truly loved her - and gods help him, he really did - the kindest and best thing he could do would be to let her fly free, without him dragging her down. Since he couldn't bear to let her go, he could at least try not to destroy her by showing her the truth of the monster that she loved.

Songbird was constantly on his mind, distracting and delighting him. Genji was professional enough not to allow it to affect his performance on the job, but it took effort to stay focused and not get someone hurt with his inattention. It took even more effort not to let on to his teammates that he was off his game, lest the teasing start.

Being surrounded by music all the time again was drawing out sides of Genji that he'd thought were lost forever. Or maybe that was _her_ effect on him. He caught himself singing under his breath when he was alone, and sometimes even humming when others were around, though so far not loud enough for anyone to hear him. Snatches of melody and lyrics floated through his mind, tugging at his attention, trying to string themselves together into something larger.

Finally he gave in to the urge and downloaded a songwriting app, one that would let him synthesize and hear the parts of the score either separately or together. This was something he'd dabbled in, part of his daydream of becoming a J-Rock star, though nothing he'd done in the past had been terribly compelling or original. 

The song in his head this time had no interest in being written in his usual hard, edgy punk style. It was a ballad, soft and sweet, starting slow and building to an intense crescendo. More than that, it needed to be a true duet, the kind that couldn't be sung alone, and that turned out to be more than merely twice as much work.

For a month he laboured over it in every spare moment. He didn't have as many of those as he once had, spending as much time as possible talking to her, but her work was busy and so was his. At least it meant that when she wasn't available, he had something to occupy himself with other than pining over her - because he was spending a truly shameful amount of his time doing exactly that.

Eventually, he had to admit that he wasn't improving it further, only fussing over it. There were still many problems with it, but it was as good as he could make it. Genji considered setting it aside, but he'd put his heart and soul into it, and the urge to gift her with it was strong. It would be nice if there was someone he could get a second opinion from, but like hell was he going to open himself up to that kind of teasing.

Genji had never been shy, but he'd also never put any significant part of himself out there on display, at risk. He knew she wouldn’t be cruel if she didn’t like the song, but he didn't want her kindness. He wanted her to understand that this was as close as he could come to showing himself to her, his _real_ self. A self that nobody in Overwatch had ever seen, because only she made him feel like there was any part of cheerful, outgoing Sparrow left within him.

After another week spent trying to screw up his courage, he finally hit on a brilliant idea. There was a way he could show it to her and find out her reaction without putting his pride and heart at stake. She almost never looked at the forums unless he'd posted, and she definitely wasn't checking any of the fanworks connected to them. He hadn't mentioned that he was working on this, so there was no reason she'd know it had come from him.

Setting up a dummy account was easy enough, and he posted the music file under the fake name, made it private, then shared the link with Songbird and Sparrow. If she hated it, she was more likely to be honest with him when she didn't know it was his work. If her reaction was bad or only lukewarm, he'd leave things at that. Of course, if she loved it, he could confess to having written it. Win-win situation - though it would still hurt if she didn't think much of his efforts.

Feeling very pleased with his cleverness, Genji waited for her reaction. And waited.

And _waited_.

Fuck.

"Athena?" Genji tried not to let his apprehension show in his voice, though he knew Athena wouldn't judge him for it. "Has she heard the song?" Maybe she was at work, or out with friends. She probably didn’t spend every moment hovering over her tablet, waiting for him to talk to her.

"She has."

So much for that hope. Maybe she was so stunned by it, that she was listening multiple times before saying anything? Yeah, right. It wasn’t _that_ good. Sooner or later she _had_ to say something. Any minute...

"Gear up!" Reyes' shout from the common room came at the same time as a frantic alert beeping from Genji's comm, the emergency muster signal. "All hands on deck, right now! Ogundimu's on the move!"

Cursing at the horrible timing, Genji tossed his tablet aside and scrambled for his swords. The terrorist known as Doomfist was powerful and dangerous enough that only the best agents could hope to move against him. All of the top fighters in Overwatch and Blackwatch had been on high alert for weeks, ready to jump at any sign the bastard was showing himself.

Whether Songbird replied or not, it was going to be a while before Genji saw it.

* * *

"Hoo, boy. Bettin’ she didn’t mean to post _that_ publicly.”

McCree’s low whistle and amused words caught Genji’s weary attention, and he paused on the way to his quarters. The fight with Doomfist had been long and drawn out, and the bastard had escaped in the end, retreating to fight another day. Hopefully he needed to lick his wounds as badly as Overwatch did, because they weren't going to be in any shape to take him on again for at least a few days.

Genji was tired and aching, and as usual after a battle this intense, wanted nothing more than to retreat to privacy and struggle to convince his non-existent limbs to relax and stop _hurting_ so badly. Mercy had already healed his dangerous wounds and repaired the damaged cybernetic systems, but there was nothing she could do about his phantom pain. 

More than that, he desperately wanted to check his tablet and see if Songbird had replied to the 'anonymous fan's' song. But curiosity had always been one of his fatal flaws, and now McCree had him intrigued. “What’s going on?”

Though he surely had to be just as exhausted and hurting as Genji, McCree had plunked into a seat in the lounge and pulled out his tablet. There was a sly, delighted grin tilting his lips around his ever-present cigar. “Songbird just posted on her forum, but it’s a letter to Sparrow and more than a mite personal.”

“This should be amusing,” Moira drawled. She'd settled at the table, and Genji had _thought_ she was writing after-action medical reports. Apparently not. “The fanboys are already losing their minds with jealousy. Fangirls, too, but in the opposite way.”

Reyes sat up from where he’d flopped onto the couch, reaching for his own tablet with a grin to rival McCree’s. “Oh, this I’ve gotta see. Hell, after that clusterfuck, we all could use a pick-me-up.”

Staring from one to the next, Genji tried to process the idea that _all_ of his teammates were apparently part of the Songbird & Sparrow fanclub. For the first time, he understood what Songbird meant when she said it was embarrassing that people she knew might view her as some sort of idol.

Worse, Genji’s fingers itched for his datapad as well. If she’d written him a letter, he wanted to see it, no matter where it was posted - and to warn her, if she had indeed sent it to the wrong place. But he didn’t want the others to realize he had more than a passing interest in what was going on.

“You all need lives,” he declared, rolling his eyes and continuing toward their quarters. “If you’re going to start giggling like children over this, I’m not sticking around. Moira, really? I thought you’d be above this kind of petty base drama.”

“Oh, please.” She waved a hand dismissively. “This is the most entertainment I’ve had in a month. Besides, they did quite a lovely rendition of Verdi's 'Teco io sto'. I’m hoping they’ll do more opera, it's the only culture I get around here.”

“Don’t even try to pretend you ain’t interested,” McCree teased. Ignoring him, Genji stalked off to his room.

Quickly he booted his tablet and logged into the forum. He had to scroll back through several pages to find her post - there were already dozens of comments from their audience, both positive and negative. Finally he found the right page.

It wasn’t addressed to him specifically, which told him McCree was right and she’d intended to send it through their private messages. But she’d made one of her rare posts on the forum late last night, and must have forgotten to switch when writing this one.

_’You are my heart and the light in my life. I’m happy to know that I can uplift you as well, but it saddens me that you believe I would turn you away, for any reason. I’ve done my best to encourage, but I want to say it plainly, so there can be no mistake._

_My love, I do not care if you are old, or scarred, or human at all. I already know you are not ugly, no matter what your outer appearance, because your heart is beautiful and it is your heart that I adore. I want to be held by you as we sing, to see the smile I can hear in your voice, and let you see mine in turn. It could only make our song all the more lovely._

_I will not ask you to reveal yourself first. I have been as reticent and reluctant as you, so I will overcome my fear and take the first step. There’s a karaoke night at a nearby bar that I’ve been told many people at the base attend. If you promise to be there tomorrow, listening, I will brave the audience and sing._

_Even if you do not choose to approach me once you know who I am, I will understand and love you always. You are the one who has given me the strength to overcome this lifelong fear and be who I was meant to be. - Songbird’_

Breathless with churning emotions, Genji stared at the words. He'd thought his song was a heartfelt confession, but she'd put him to shame.

She’d been dropping hints for weeks that it wouldn’t matter to her what he looked like. Ever since they’d agreed to love one another, he’d been fighting the urge to take her at her word and reveal himself, even though he knew it was foolish. Impossible.

 _Maybe_ she would be able to overlook the fact that he was an abomination, neither man nor machine - ‘human at all’? Did she think he was an Omnic? It would make sense, and he could see how she’d reached the conclusion. But at least an Omnic was what it was supposed to be, whole and complete, not a half-and-half monstrosity like him.

 _Maybe_ she could truly accept his body, and love him. _Maybe_ she could deal with his fits of temper and dark moods, the days when pain made him snappish and difficult to deal with.

But his sweet, soft-hearted Songbird, with her healer's heart and caring nature… how could he ask her to love the monster that Genji was? Even setting aside all the death and destruction in his past with the Shimada-gumi, what he had done in Blackwatch would curdle the stomach of any upstanding citizen. Especially in the last year or so, with things going as spectacularly badly as they had been. Genji knew all too well that his personal reputation in Overwatch was that of a heartless killer and brutal assassin, and the stories told about him were only a fraction of the truth.

But oh, how he wanted to believe she would be able to see past that. Past the surface, past the rumours, past the pain and torment that haunted him, to the man beneath who loved her with all his blackened cybernetic heart.

Cursing, he punched the wall, using his left fist so he would feel the sting of the scraped knuckles and bruised flesh. He deserved far worse, for even thinking about sullying her. And yet, the last thing he wanted to do was break her heart by refusing.

First thing first. She definitely had _not_ intended to post that publicly. Genji thought hard about how to address the issue. Simply pointing out the mistake would stress her further. Perhaps if he made light of it, she wouldn't be quite so embarrassed and humiliated?

He opened a private message window with her, setting it for talk to text. "Not such a shy little bird after all, hmm? You've certainly made the shippers very happy today. And that doesn't begin to address how your letter lifted my heart, beloved."

There was a long pause, then she replied, _'What are you talking about? How would they know… **********!!!'_

Genji stared at the asterisks for a moment, then laughed softly. "Athena, did she swear and you didn't want to put it in text? I didn't take you for a prude."

"It's not censorship, Agent Shimada," Athena replied. "There is no direct translation for what she said, and it would be a potential giveaway for you to know what her native language is."

"Fair enough." He flipped to the forum, keeping an eye on it. Her post disappeared a moment later, as he'd expected.

Another direct message came from her. _'I didn't mean for that to be public! I'm so sorry!'_

"Why apologize to me?" Genji asked, watching as Athena transcribed his words to text. "I'm not the shy one."

_'You're not shy, but you're very personal. Even with me, you don't show everything you feel, and it's not only because you're worried it will identify you.'_

That was true, and he hadn't realized she'd noticed. He'd tried to be as open an honest as he could with her, since there were so many things he _had_ to hide. "Well, I certainly don't mind everyone knowing how I feel about you. I should make a public reply, so they don't think I'm leaving you hanging."

_'Oh no! Someone screen capped it and they've posted it again!'_

Frowning, Genji looked back at the forum. Sure enough, there had been a wave of protests when she removed her letter, and then someone had posted a picture of the whole thing. Damn it. Asking them to take it down wouldn't work - if they were willing to respect her wish for privacy, they wouldn't have reposted it in the first place. And they probably weren't the only person with a copy.

"Athena, are you able to search for and delete all copies of Songbird's post?" Genji doubted it, but it was worth a try.

"I have the capability, but it would require a command authorization for me to invade the personal files of an agent, let alone of so many." She sounded apologetic.

Damn. Genji cast a look at his bedroom doorway. "Command authorization, huh?" Reyes would certainly have that level of power, and he'd already shown he was interested in the whole drama. But was there any way Genji could ask him without giving his own identity away? Hell, Reyes seemed to think the whole thing was hilarious, and wouldn't want to stop the entertainment.

Athena spoke again. "Permission has been granted. All copies have been erased from the forum, and no reposts will be permitted. People who downloaded or printed copies will still have them, but they cannot be sent through me."

"What?" Genji stared at the forum, which was erupting in a frenzy of protests. One post, flagged as a command announcement, stood out.

_'Respect the woman's privacy, the way you'd expect yours to be respected. More importantly, don't upset her - or worse, piss off her champion - or they'll stop singing. Quit being idiots, and that's an order. - Cmdr J. Morrison'_

Bemused, Genji toggled back to the message window. "Do you have that much personal pull with our all-powerful Commander in Chief, or is he that big of a fan?"

_'I didn't ask him! Oh my god. Is there anyone on this base who isn't listening to us?'_

Grinning, Genji propped his chin in his hand. "I've been reliably informed that we're the closest thing to 'culture' this base has, and also that we're the best entertainment around. You might as well accept it. You're an idol."

_'I still think you joining me added a great deal of fuel to the flames, so it's not all on me!'_

This was a familiar debate. She continued to insist that _he_ was the real draw, and Genji continued to remind her of how many had already been on the forum long before he joined in. Yes, the flurry of attention drawn by his inclusion had pulled new listeners into their orbit, but she was still the true star.

"Are you really going to sing in public?" Genji couldn't quite believe it. After all this time with both of them dancing around their identities, and her continued inability to sing without him to support her, suddenly she wanted to get up on a stage in front of everyone, by herself? "You realize that since you've announced it, we're not talking about the normal crowd. That bar is going to be so packed the fire marshal will be involved."

There was a long, long pause, indicating she hadn't thought about that factor to her accidentally public declaration. But his brave little bird didn't falter in the end. _'As long as I know you'll be there to hear me.'_

"You could just tell me who you are, if you really want me to know." Genji wasn't entirely certain how he felt about the idea. The mystery of it all had left him free to be himself, his _old_ self, charming and flirty and fun-loving. 

If he knew who she was, it would change things between them. Especially if he didn't reveal himself in turn, it would make it awkward for him to interact with her in their daily lives. Given the amount of time he spent in the medical wing, he knew pretty much every nurse in there, at least in passing.

_'No. That would be too easy. I want to prove to you that I truly don't care who you are. If I can face this fear to be with you…'_

"Then perhaps you'll shame me into facing my own as well?"Genji murmured. There was a twisted logic to the idea. "I… I don't know if I can, little bird. Once again, you are braver than me in the end."

_'Shame is not the word I would use. But even if all that happens is you've helped me face this lifelong fear, that is still a good thing. Promise you'll be there?'_

There was only one answer he could give. Genji flipped back to the forum and typed it out. She'd bared her heart to the world. The least he could do was answer her the same way.

_'My beloved Songbird, I would happily go to the ends of the earth to hear you sing. Even if the gods themselves try to stop me, I will be there tomorrow, listening and cheering you on. My word of honour.'_


	6. Chapter 6

It seemed like the entire Watchpoint must be crammed into the bar, bodies filling every possible space. It reminded Genji of being on the shinkansen in Japan, where train officials would literally shove people into the cars to fit as many as possible, packed in like sardines in a tin.

If he hadn't promised Songbird that he would be there, Genji would have taken one look at the crowd and backed straight out again. He intensely disliked being close to other people, despised having contact against his cyborg body. It was part of why he didn't wear clothes much, because the constant feedback from the 'nerves' of his 'skin' was maddening.

Tonight, he had no choice, so he ground his teeth and slipped in behind McCree, letting the bigger man plough a path through the crowd for them. Genji had 'allowed' McCree to drag him along, though the way the cowboy grinned suggested the attempt to project reluctance had failed. There would undoubtedly be teasing to follow, but Genji had given his word of honour, and he would not let his Songbird down.

More than one person held a cell phone or tablet over their heads, recording every woman who came onto the stage. Only women were being permitted up, presumably because they didn't want to risk Songbird not getting a turn in the queue. Each new instrumental intro fell into a hush as the crowd waited to see if their patience would be rewarded, followed by a sigh of disappointment when the voice of the singer wasn't right.

Genji felt rather bad for all the women performing who _weren't_ Songbird, though they seemed to be taking it in good humour. Then again, he supposed every one of them knew what they were getting into, and were enjoying teasing the audience. Some weren't half bad, but none were anywhere near as good as his Songbird.

Perhaps that was personal bias speaking, but the audience did seem to agree with him.

He kept scanning the crowd, studying the various women, looking for hints about which one might be her. Everyone else was undoubtedly doing the same. Was she the older Black woman who stood biting her lip, as if nervous? Could it be the beautiful young Indian girl swaying from side to side, as if she couldn't stand still? What about the freckled redhead who was watching the crowd anxiously, clearly waiting for someone?

"Huh." McCree sounded bemused. "Even Angie's having a go. Who’d've thought. Don't think I've ever heard her sing before."

Glancing at the stage, Genji saw Angela Ziegler take the microphone from the previous singer. "We must have," he objected, though truthfully he couldn't bring any memory to mind, either. "We've seen her at Christmas parties for years."

"She always said she couldn't carry a tune." McCree chewed the end of his cigar, unlit thanks to the bar's rules about smoking. "You don't suppose…?"

"Can't be." But Genji was less sure of that with every passing moment. Claiming not to be able to sing would be the perfect excuse for someone with crippling stage fright. 

It was the excuse he'd always used - he'd never said the words, but people made the assumption because of his damaged throat. But if Angela was so bad she wouldn't even join in on the always out-of-tune Christmas carols, why would she be taking the stage now? Her hands were shaking, clenched so tight around the mic that her knuckles showed white against the skin. 

Then the music started, and he didn't have to wonder any longer. It was the intro to _their_ song. The one he'd written for her, that nobody but the two of them had ever heard.

A song that _could not_ be sung to the end alone.

The moment she began to sing, a hush fell over the crowd, and this time no sighs broke it when she began. Though her voice shook nearly as badly as her hands, it was undeniably Songbird's singing. Angela closed her eyes, and that seemed to help, steadying her voice somewhat. She stayed in tune, but it was breathless and trembling instead of soaring and strong.

"What is she doing?" Genji murmured, stunned and dismayed. "She can't finish that song without Sparrow." His heart thundered in his chest, and he couldn't tear his eyes off her. She was beautiful, his little bird, so brave and determined and insane. He'd always found Angela very attractive, but now she was stunning.

McCree chuckled, keeping his voice low as well. "I'm guessin' she's hopin' he'll join her, seein' as she made him promise to be here and all."

"And if he does not, she looks the fool." Genji was furious with her for tricking him, putting him in this position, but at the same time he was in awe of her cunning. _He_ was supposed to be the sneaky one in their relationship, not her. At least now he knew she liked the song, but this was not how he'd wanted to get his answer.

"Nothin' like makin' a fool of yourself for love." McCree was grinning so broadly he was in danger of losing the cigar. "Now hush up, I wanna hear if he does join in."

She'd reached the chorus, where his part was meant to join in with the first strains of harmony, just as he'd joined her that first night. This could still be sung alone. The next verse was his, though she could sing it with a little ingenuity to keep it in her voice range. But the second chorus, and especially the bridge, would make no sense with only half the words and melody.

Genji stood frozen, torn to the depths of his soul. If there was any person in the world he could believe capable of loving him despite his ravaged body, it was the woman who had stitched him back together in the first place, and never shown a single ounce of pity or revulsion. But by the same token, she knew _exactly_ who he was, what he had done, both in his past and now in Blackwatch. He could not hope to hide the depths of his sins from her.

And in turn, he already knew that she was furious about what Blackwatch had done recently, the lengths that they'd gone to, the horrors that had been exposed to the public. Surely, if she knew he was Sparrow, she would turn away.

Yet she stood there, singing. Hoping. Loving.

When she reached the end of the chorus, still alone, her expression fell. She bit her lip, and opened her eyes to scan the crowd as if she could find him. Genji saw her eyes linger briefly on him and McCree, and she winced. Probably chagrined that people who knew her so well were present.

The music shifted into the second verse, _his_ verse. Instead of raising the part into her range, Angela stayed silent, waiting. As the first line passed with no sound but the instruments, her shoulders slumped.

On the second line, Genji sucked in a ragged breath and sang, unable to stand the sight of her heartbroken disappointment. It was by far the worst he'd ever sounded, hoarse and uneven, and with the mask on the words were muffled and the melody lifeless. But it was loud enough to be heard, and he saw her head come up in startled shock, the first hints of a smile breaking through her despair.

Though he would have sworn there wasn't room in the bar for anyone to take a single step, somehow space opened up around him. People were moving away from the sound of his singing, trying to identify him, or perhaps give him room to reach the stage and join her. Genji saw more than one person glare at him, thinking that he wasn't giving way, unable to comprehend that he was the one they were hearing.

McCree caught on first, staring at Genji in disbelief. Angela was next, hand creeping up to cover her open mouth, eyes round as sake cups. Genji kept singing, struggling to hide the fact that he was the one shaking, now.

Would she turn away, now that she knew? Would she refuse him in the end?

When he reached the second chorus, where the melody split into intertwining parts, she picked up the song without an instant's hesitation. She set the mic on its stand and moved forward, hopping down off the stage to come to _him_. Her beautiful soprano soared with sweet confidence now, stronger than his, carrying him the way he'd once promised to do for her.

Unable to quite convince himself it was real, Genji moved forward as well. They met in the middle, singing face to face for the first time. There were tears in her eyes, but the only emotion shining there was pure, unadulterated love. It felt like a punch to the heart.

Especially when she reached up as they swung into the bridge, fingers sliding along the edge of his mask. He knew what she was doing, trembled at the idea of baring himself to so many people, but in that moment he could deny her nothing. She pressed the tiny catches that held the mask in place, and slipped it free, to prove to everyone that he really was the one singing.

It was easier than he'd expected to ignore the gasps and whispers as people caught a glimpse of his ruined face for the first time. He had eyes only for her as they sang together, as she had eyes only for him.

_My heart, my dearest, my beloved, my Songbird / My love, my darling, my sweetheart, my Sparrow,  
Your sweet soaring melody is like nothing I've heard / Before I found you my world was so narrow,   
You uplift me to joy with every word / Your song spears my heart like a swift flying arrow,   
My only, my always, my everything, my hero._

The cheering and whooping that erupted with the last line was deafening. Leaning in, he murmured, "We're about to get mobbed."

"I know." She ducked her head to hide her grimace from the crowd, but he saw it. Her hands were trembling again, though they'd been steady since he'd joined in the song. "I don't think there's much we can do about it."

Yeah, fuck that. He wasn't putting her or himself through that, and they had too many private things to discuss. Slinging his left arm around around her waist, he cinched her in close to his body, ignoring the whistles and catcalls from the audience. "Hold tight." 

"Whaaa... ah!" Angela didn't quite manage to stifle her scream when he dropped a vapor bomb on the ground at their feet, then leapt straight up with all the considerable power in his cybernetic legs. 

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she clung for dear life as he hooked his right hand over one of the heavy wooden rafters that ran the length of the tavern, then swung them both up on top of it. From there he ran lightly across the length of it to drop down behind the bar, in the space for staff, while everyone in the main area was still exclaiming over their disappearance.

One of the bartenders flashed them a smile and jerked his head in the direction of the 'staff only' door behind him, adding a wink for good measure. Genji nodded back in thanks, and ducked through the door with Angela before anyone else could spot them and figure out where they'd gone.

The back room was surprisingly quiet, the riotous noise of the crowd muffled by thick walls and racks of crates and bottles and boxes. Beyond that was an empty office, and Genji pulled her into the smaller space, then shut the door behind them.

With two layers of protection between them and the mob of fans that neither of them wanted to face, Genji was left awkwardly staring at her. She was staring right back, hands twisting together in front of her, wearing an expression of nervous elation. The joy threw him, still unexpected even though she'd shown no sign of rejection since the moment she'd realized who he was.

"How?" he blurted out, anxious. When she blinked at him, confused, he shook his head. "How can you look at me like that? How can you accept me? How can you forgive what I've done?"

"How could I do anything less?" The nerves melted into regret... and love. Stepping closer, she ran her hands over his chest, making his skin tingle where her fingertips travelled. "Now I finally understand all the darkness you've hinted at since we started talking - I've seen how difficult this has all been for you, how you've struggled with your orders, with the conflict between your honour and your duty. I've seen beneath the hard, cold surface you've tried so hard to convince everyone is all there is to you. My Sparrow, after your poured your heart out to me in that song, how could I not love you with all my heart in return?"

"You knew the song was mine?" Heat swept Genji's cheeks, so fierce he must surely be bright red. So much for his clever plan to shield his ego from her potential criticism. That she called him Sparrow even now made his heart squeeze painfully tight. Almost as tight as his hands on her hips, pulling her closer. He could feel her warmth against him, enticing and seductive after so many weeks of having nothing but her words. "When you didn't say anything, I thought you must hate it."

"I was crying too hard to respond with anything coherent," she admitted, a flush of her own burning against her pale skin. "Of course I knew you'd written it, you silly man. Who else could have put such passion and insight into a song that so perfectly described our entire relationship? It's beautiful, and I knew it deserved something equally heartfelt in return. This was the only thing I could think of."

She'd made this bold, sweeping gesture of outing herself in response to his song? Yes, he'd meant it to serve as his confession, but he'd never expected an answer like this. 

"Tears weren't quite the response I was going for, but I'll take it," he remarked, lifting his left hand to brush his thumb over her cheeks, wiping away the crystal drops that were leaking free even now. These weren't tears of sorrow or grief, but of pure joy and happiness, and he could ask for nothing better.

Still half convinced he was dreaming, that she would reject him at any moment, he closed the last bit of distance to brush his lips against hers. The kiss remained sweet for approximately half a second, before she moaned and opened her lips, inviting him in. Her hands rose, one cupping the back of his neck while the other tangled in his hair, tugging to encourage him closer.

Genji took her cues and ran with them, sweeping his tongue out to plunder her offered mouth. She moaned and tightened her grip, arching up against him, leaning into the support of his arm around her waist. His other hand circled her throat, thumb rubbing over her collar bone, playing with the soft skin in the hollow. 

When they broke for air, her eyes were dazed, as if she was drugged with pleasure. Genji felt much the same. "I'm looking forward to seeing those toys of yours for myself," he murmured, making her blush all over again. "Though I have a toy of my own I'm hoping you enjoy playing with more."

The flirty, seductive words had once been second nature to him, but he'd spent so long hating his ravaged body, certain nobody could ever find him attractive again, that he'd expected to be more uncertain. But this was Angela, who knew every scar both visible and hidden, and he didn't have to worry what her reaction would be when he bared as much of himself as he still could.

Besides, he adored that pink flush riding her cheeks, the way her lips were plumped up from the force of their kiss, and that hot, needy look in her eyes. Being able to see the effect he had on her was far better than merely hearing it. 

She seemed to feel the same, because her gaze kept flicking between his face and body, drinking him in. "I think it will become my favourite toy of all," she assured him, eyes sparkling. "I can't wait to give it a test run."

Her teasing made him groan, both with need and in protest of the way his cock was swelling within the unforgiving confines of the plate that covered his groin. "I've been a bad influence on you," he said, husky with desire. "You used to be too shy to even write the word 'sexting', and now listen to you talking dirty. I like it."

"I like it too," she admitted, skimming her fingers down his chest. "I'm looking forward to hearing what you sound like when you say those things to me. Do you stroke your cock, while you order me to fuck myself with a vibrator? You would never tell me."

He'd spent weeks coaxing her into not being afraid to use the 'bad' words, and it paid off now. Hearing Angela's sweet voice talking about fucking herself made him so hot, Genji swore his system must be overheating. 

"I do," he admitted, leaning in to nip at the shell of her ear, making her gasp. "Some days I barely have to touch myself before I explode, listening to you. I kept a recording of one of my favourite times, and I play it when I'm away and missing you."

"What?" Her tone was half scandalized scolding, half titillated laughter. "You never told me you were recording! Bad Sparrow. No biscuit."

"I don’t care about biscuits. The only thing I want is you." Genji kissed her again, putting all of the love and passion he'd bottled up for weeks into the embrace. "I adore you, little bird," he whispered against her lips. "So many times I almost gave in and let you hear me too, but I was terrified you would run if you realized who I was. In my wildest dreams, I never imagined it would be _you_ , the one person I don't have to fear baring myself to."

"I'm not running anywhere," she promised him. The hand on his chest slid down farther; he didn't understand why, since she knew he had little sensation there, until she asked, "Did you lock the door when we came in?"

He had, in case a determined fan would think to look for them here. "My, my, little bird. What are you suggesting?" He cupped her cheek with his left hand, rubbing his thumb over her lips, and shuddered when she slipped her tongue out to lick at the pad. "Then again, you are the one who suggested your operating room as a potential location for sex. I'm beginning to think you have a thing for public locations."

"Maybe I do," Angela replied, a mischievous gleam in her eyes as her fingers found and undid the catch on his groin plate. Genji groaned at the sudden relief of pressure, and again when she boldly wrapped a hand around him. "Or maybe I just can't wait to try out my new toy."

"It's all yours," he promised her, somewhat strangled. He hadn't expected this, had thought they would wait until they could safely flee back to her quarters, where he could cherish her the way she deserved to be. But if she wanted him now, he was _not_ going to object. "What do you want to do with it?"

"I want it inside me," she insisted, then shook her head. " _You_. I want _you_ inside me. All this time I've been pretending, imagining, and I want the real thing. Please?"

"I do love it when you beg." Genji slid his right hand down from her waist, over the curve of her hip to grip her thigh, and urged her to lift it and hook it around his waist. Her knee-length skirt slid back to expose more of her slender leg, and he wished he'd used his other hand so he could properly feel the silky skin. The position opened her up to him, let him settle into the cradle of her hips, rubbing against her core as he pressed her back into the wall. 

"How do you want me to get you ready? Mouth? Hands? _Which_ hand?" He grinned, and slid his right hand upwards, toward more sensitive areas. "Did you really think I might be an Omnic? Did you imagine robotic hands touching you? I guess you got the best of both worlds."

"Get me ready?" Her laugh was breathless, and she rocked her hips up against him, squeezing his cock with her slender fingers. "I've spent all day thinking about what I wanted to do to you, if you did reveal yourself. It's the only thing that got me through the stage fright. I passed 'ready' _hours_ ago."

"Oh, really." A delighted smile spread across his face. "Now I have to see for myself." Letting her go, he dropped to his knees and pushed her skirt up with both hands. There was a scrap of purple lace beneath that didn't do a good job of hiding her neatly trimmed curls; it appeared she was a natural blonde. Genji nuzzled her inner thigh, as breathless as she'd sounded, and it had nothing to do with the state of his lungs. "May I?"

"Yes!" Digging both hands into his hair, she urged him closer, widening her stance to give him better access. "Oh god, please!"

Nudging the lace out of the way, Genji licked at her core, and groaned at the sweet, thick liquid he found already coating her pussy. It was ambrosia, driving him crazy with the need for more, and he lapped it up eagerly. She cried out, tilting her hips to try to get him where she wanted his tongue, but he avoided the area around her clit. They'd get there soon enough, but she should already have known how much he loved to tease.

Fuck, he'd missed this so much; the simple give and take of pleasure, the games played in the bedroom for nothing more than the sheer joy of it. He'd never before had a partner that meant something to him, and he discovered that loving her made his desire to pleasure her all the greater. 

"Genji!" Angela cried out, tightening her hold on his hair. "Sparrow, please! I... I want you to use your tongue on my clit. I want you to lick me until I come."

Well, if she was going to ask that nicely, Genji supposed he'd better reward her. It was what he'd taught her to do, after all; tell him exactly what she wanted, describe the actions she was performing so he could imagine being the one doing them to her instead. He sought out the tight bundle of nerves at the top of her pussy, fastened his mouth around her clit, and sucked hard. Every so often he flicked his tongue over the bud, making her cry out and squeeze with her thighs.

Then he hummed a few bars from their song, and she lost it, melting into his mouth as she fell apart in ecstasy. Genji worked her through it, gentling his touch but not letting up, until finally she was tugging him away instead of trying to get him closer.

Only then did he come up for air, panting and feeling rather smug. Angela looked utterly wrecked, which only reinforced his sense of accomplishment. "Is that what you wanted?" he asked, all but purring as he nuzzled her stomach.

"Some of it," she replied with an enticing smile. "I still want to know what _you_ feel like inside me, instead of a toy I have to pretend is you. Come inside me, my love. I need you."

Genji doubted it would ever stop thrilling him when she called him her love. He hoped he was able to give her some fraction of the same feeling in return, the trembling, joyous shock of it. "As always, little bird, your wish is my command."

Rising to his feet, he swept her into another kiss, letting her taste her own juices on his lips. Slipping his hands beneath the sweet globes of her ass, he lifted her against him, and she wrapped both legs around his waist this time, trusting him to support her. She was so wet and ready and eager, the moment he was lined up it took only the slightest of pushes to slide inside, one glorious inch at a time. Groaning, Genji fought to take it slow, give her the gentle loving she deserved.

His bold little bird apparently had other ideas, because she broke the kiss to whisper in his ear, "Fuck me hard, Sparrow. I can take it. I _want_ it."

So much for any hope of control. Those soft, dirty words were like a shot of adrenaline straight to the heart, and Genji couldn't have disobeyed the command if he'd wanted to. He slammed the rest of the way home, revelling in her wild cry, then drew out so he could do it again. And again, and _gods_ she was so tight and hot and wet he thought he would surely lose his mind.

She rode him with her thighs clenched around his waist, one hand tangled in his hair and the other with her nails dug into his shoulder, taking everything he gave her and giving it right back to him. She was wild and uninhibited, and her cries of pleasure were so much more powerful when he could see the expression of desire that went with them. Somehow he hung on until she reached the peak a second time, until he felt her inner muscles squeezing him tight as she came with a scream that she stifled against his mouth.

Then Genji was lost as well, slammed into her body one last time as his seed spurted hard inside her. They clung together through the aftershocks, both of them trembling with the impact of it, before finally he eased his grip and let her slide back down to stand on her feet. She was wobbly, so he kept his arm around her waist, and she leaned against his chest for support. 

Concerned that she still hadn't said anything, he cupped his left hand around the back of her head. "You all right?" His voice came out as a hoarse rasp, and he realized he might have been doing some shouting of his own.

"Hmm?" She sounded dreamy, still lost in ecstasy. When he tugged her head back so he could see her face, her eyes were dazed. "God, yes. I'm amazing. I mean, _you're_ amazing. You have been such a bad influence on me, and I love every second of it."

Chuckling, he nuzzled her cheek with his. "Which part was my bad influence? You wanting to have sex in someone else's office, you demanding that I lick you until you come, or you insisting that I fuck you hard?"

He _felt_ the blaze of heat sweep over her face as she blushed, and her laugh was scandalized. "I did all those things, didn't I? Ah, my Sparrow. You truly do give me wings to fly, and courage to soar."

"You are my everything," he said, his voice breaking. "I've told you many times how your song uplifts me and carries me through the worst days, and now you know exactly how bad those days can be. You're my light, little bird. The truth is, I've never been the one carrying you. It's always been you carrying me."

"Then we carry each other," she countered, smiling up at him with so much love in her eyes that it hurt. "That way, neither of us will ever fall. Forever and always."

"Always," he agreed, and sealed the promise with another kiss.


End file.
